Monday, July 2, 2012

FOR LOVE OF GWYNNETH

 FOR LOVE OF GWYNNETH



Thank you for inviting me to post here, Miriam!

My new release, FOR LOVE OF GWYNNETH, is a Medieval romance with fantasy~paranormal elements.



Blurb: For Love of Gwynneth:

It is 1135, and everything Gwynneth and Richard thought they wanted is put to the crucible.
Gwynneth's innocent desire to spy on her secret love, brother to the man her father says she will wed,  spirals out of control when Richard captures her.
All Richard wanted was a quick tryst with a Wood Nymph. He never imagined he would be forced into a marriage. Richard is not pleased. Everything goes wrong, starting with his plans to avenge the deaths of his father and uncle, not to mention that his brother had planned to wed Gwynneth. A powerful baron from the north claims he has a signed betrothal contract between his son and Lady Gwynneth, which the baron intends to enforce. Then there is the matter of his new father-in-law and his unceasing efforts to end Richard’s life. The only good to come from the marriage, Richard finally realizes, is Gwynneth. Then she’s taken from him.
Richard's journey begins to reclaim his wife. For love of Gwynneth.

Excerpt:
 
* * * *
Gwynneth heard them coming and stopped to listen, at first cocking her head and frowning, then smiling at the unmistakable sound of disgruntlement in Richard’s voice.
"Gwynneth," Richard repeated for what seemed to him the ten hundredth time, he walking on foot as Alden and Geoffrey trailed behind with the horses. "I'm sorry for what I said. I’ll not put you away. Please come out and let me take you home. Gwynneth, I'm sorry..." He said it over and over, repeating what Alden had said he should say, but feeling very foolish.
It was after Alden explained why Gwynneth had reacted as she had about being put to convent that Richard reluctantly agreed to speak aloud to the wood.
As Alden told the story, she’d been sent to convent as a child, but promptly ran away. It had taken over ten days for her to make her way home, during which time everyone was convinced she’d never be seen again, either having been devoured by the wild beasts of the forest, or taken and sold. She’d been given a beating upon her arrival home, but stubbornly insisted she’d do it again if forced to return to the confining convent. Gwynneth was assured she’d be returned the next day. When all awakened the next morning, she was gone.
“That’s when you found her,” Alden said.
“I found her?” Richard queried.
Alden nodded. “She'd been hiding in a tree, but fell and broke her arm. You found her and brought her home to Mother at Aven.”
He screwed up his face in thought. “That scrawny thing was Gwynneth?”
“Yea. She recalls quite clearly how you rescued her. How you teased she must be the clumsiest wood nymph in the wood.”
Wood nymph? Richard frowned.
“Was she ever sent back to convent?” Geoffrey asked.
Alden shook his head.
“Why’d she run from convent?” Richard asked.
“She fears being confined. When she said she’d die if you put her away, she spoke true.”
Richard had grunted and agreed to Alden’s way. But was greatly relieved his men weren't there to hear him speaking, nay, pleading aloud to the trees. He jumped when he felt a small hand settle on his arm, and uttered an oath. He turned to face her. "You," he began darkly.
"You won't put me away?" she asked softly.
Seeing her fair countenance marred by one eye swollen shut, Richard softly growled. He’d killed the baseborn dog too quickly. Should have made him suffer more, suffer mightily, should have made him plead for a swift death. Next time, he promised himself.
Now he had Gwynneth to contend with, to ease her fears and strange notions. At the sight of her face open and trusting, his angry words fled, although irritation remained. "Nay, Gwynneth."
She stared, waiting expectantly.
He rolled his eyes at her loud silence. "Know this, I shall never put you away. This I vow," he declared loudly.
“Or leave me at another holding?”
He muttered at such doubt. “Nay, you won’t be left behind.”
She nodded. “You don’t want me.” Her tone of voice remained neutral.
He growled, anxious to return, although he knew she was waiting for some assurance concerning her future. “I don’t like being forced to do things. And I don’t like your father! Miserable bastard,” he muttered as he looked away.
“I can understand that,” she said softly. “I never set out to deceive you.”
“I know.” He reached for her arm. “Come.”
She pulled away from his hand. “I feared what my father would do if he knew I had met with you. He never would have understood it was by chance we met. Well, the first time. I didn't mean to deceive you.”
“I understand,” he gritted. “We return now.”
She stepped back. “You said you’d never forget what I did.”
“God’s death, woman!”
Alden and Geoffrey moved a little closer.
She stared up at him, waiting.
“What? Jesu, I said I wouldn’t put you away! What? What more do you want?”
“You only marry me because my father—”
“You and I marry, Gwynneth,” he broke in impatiently. “‘Tis not what we want, but we cannot always have what we want, can we?”
She shook her head and frowned.
He growled softly, seeing her apprehension. "'Twas you put us in this mess! What'd you think would happen when that—when your father learned what had happened? Hmmm?"
She pulled herself up straighter, and looked him square in the eye. "'Twas you that brought me to Erlestoke. I told you take me home!"
He snorted. "But you didn't say why, did you? Didn’t say aught about why it would be in my best interest to take you home, now did you? Hmmm?”
“Nay.” She looked down at the ground. "The words never came out. I know it sounds a paltry excuse, but my throat seized whene’er I tried voicing my name or identity."
He wasn’t pleased at the sight of her woeful expression, and his frown increased at the remembrance of her words spoken earlier.
“I don’t kill my wives,” he said darkly. “They die on me. ‘Tis naught I do, just their bad luck.”
She pulled her mantle a little tighter, and again faced him. “I never believed you capable of murdering a wife for gain.”
His eyes narrowed. Gain? Where’d she hear that? “Then why shout it as you ran from me?”
“I didn’t,” she retorted indignantly. With a brief look at the wood, she turned her eyes back to Richard. “If, as you say, ‘twas naught you did, just their bad luck, then if I become your wife, then mayhap my luck will change. I don’t want to die; all your wives die.”
He shook his head at her stubbornness. “You won’t die, Gwynneth. You’re young, strong, healthy; you won’t die.” His thoughts went back again to Renard’s words.
“She comes from good stock, FitzHugh. Her mother, the best of women, a great lady, bore me one jewel of a daughter and five healthy sons; all still alive and well,” he’d gloated. “Gwynneth is small, but she favors her mother, the Lady Cinnia. She’ll beget you a dynasty, FitzHugh...if you can keep her.”
Her face clouded at his impatient tone of voice. “How can you be sure?”
Because your bastard father will decorate the trees with my entrails should aught happen to you. “I won’t let you die.” She looked unconvinced by his declaration.  “Your father will be angry with you if you don’t come back with me—" slyly he ached a brow—"if you don't marry me.”
She looked again toward the wood. “You come after me only because you fear my father’s wrath; but so did I.” 
“Though true, ‘tis neither here nor there; we wed.” He knew there must be kinder words to say they had no choice in the matter, but he wasn’t of a mind to search for them now. “Know you how long it would take you to walk to Penclyst?”
She shrugged in reply and looked down at the ground.
“Have food with you?” he asked roughly.
She shook her head.
His frown deepened. "Aren't you hungry? Maudie said you refused food all day."
"I had no appetite."
His hands went to his hips. He could put a stop to this by grabbing her and forcing her to return, but realized it would be a temporary solution, for he’d no doubt she’d try this again. “‘Tis dangerous to sleep alone in the wood. Wolves, boars, bears—”
“I would sleep in a tree.”
“Fall and break your arm again?”
She looked up quickly.
He saw her worried expression disappear, the near smile. He spoke in a gentler tone. “I want you to come back with me.”
With a sad sigh, she looked back down at the ground.
He gritted his teeth and forced himself to patience. “I don’t want to have to force you to come back with me. Should I have to force you, I shall have to beat you, you know.” There. That’s a threat she understands.
She snapped her head up and her gaze searched his face.           
Now that she recognized he wasn’t a man to be taken lightly, he silently congratulated himself. “When we return you may do whatever you like to the hall so it suits you. It does stink.”
Gwynneth was amazed to hear such words come from him, and felt a surge of pleasure he’d allow her such freedom. “I may?”
"Yea. Should be pleasant for our wedding."
She searched his face carefully, but saw no part of his smile touch his eyes.
“I have spoken to Sheila,” he informed her. “She’s the one who… You’ll have no cause for complaint from her,” he assured her, his tone of voice hinting at dire, unpleasant consequences should Sheila ever cause Gwynneth to voice a complaint.
Her eye opened wide. Was that what she’d seen?
He took her meat knife and dagger from his belt, and held them before her. When she reached for them, he pulled back. "I trust you," he cautioned.
She smiled. Foolish man! Did he think she would ever use her dagger on him?
He glowered at her. “I warn you, should you ever brandish this before me, I shall have to beat you.”
“Never,” she promised softly.
“And no more tears. I hate tears. Should I see tears, I shall beat you. You understand?”
“Yea,” she replied softly. “Is there aught else I needs do to avoid a beating?” She bit her lip closed at his look of shock.
He cleared his throat. “Yea.” He cleared his throat once again. “Yea. As my wife, I’ll not tolerate mindless chatter from you, nor angry silences, nor witless complaints.” He glared at her, as if daring her to whimper up a complaint, grunting when she remained silent.
"Now Gwynneth, you cannot be running off every time I raise my voice to you.”
Raise his voice? He’d threatened to put me away! She arched her brows and opened her mouth to protest.
“Gwynneth,” he continued quickly, “I say things when I am angry. Things I don’t mean to say. It…” He stopped and shrugged. 
It wasn’t an apology, but she was sure it was as close to one as she’d ever get from him. It satisfied her. She nodded, and then rested her hand on his arm.
He acknowledged her silent acquiescence with a grunt. “No running away again," he warned darkly. “Know I would quickly find you, and then have to beat you. ‘Tis best you understand I'm not a man who abides women running away from him."
She nodded meekly, and looked down as she bit her bottom lip to keep it closed. Although she dearly wanted to inquire how many women in his life had felt the need to run away from him, she didn't think that now was the time to task him with such a question.
He might threaten to beat her. It took all her willpower to keep from laughing aloud.
Alden stood silent at a distance.
Geoffrey’s eyes  looked from Alden to Richard and back again. He knew protecting his lord was now going to be immensely more difficult, and all because of Lady Gwynneth.
* * * *
I hope you enjoyed the blurb and excerpt. If you want to know more about the wild-blooded world I write about, please visit my website, listed below. 
This book is to be the first in a series. Next comes THE WAY OF THINGS, next is DELLA, and then, THE LADY ANNE.
 
Twitter:          https://twitter.com/#!/GerriBowen

Links to buy:  



Friday, June 29, 2012

THE EAGLE - PART ONE - The Eagle's Woman

I have to admit it added something to my morning to wake up to my new book cover. This story of the Vikings in Ireland, The Eagle's Woman, should be out this summer. It's part one of a multi-part series, The Eagle, tracing the sometimes exalted, sometimes tortured path of Ari Bjornssen, nicknamed by his men The Eagle. Picking up a likely-looking slave girl in Ireland is only the beginning of his troubles. From Ireland to Norway to the trade capital of the ancient Viking world, Hedeby, he will find his life inextricably linked with Maeve's. A sequel, The Eagle's Lady, is in progress. I can't wait to see the cover for that one!

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Saturday, June 16, 2012

MARKETING FOR ROMANCE WRITERS - SUMMER CAMP!




Is this you?

"Do I have a marketing plan? Are you kidding? I'm buried with writing, editing, fighting with a website, trying to balance a job, family, and all the other demands of life. If I think about taking on more, I start to stress out. But I'll listen to suggestions. I need all the help I can get."

Are you a writer who fights constantly to find better ways not only to write, but also to promote?

MFRW is open to all authors, agents, editors, promo services, publishers, cover designers, artists, and virtual assistants.

Need help? Like to offer solutions?

Join us

We focus on marketing and publicity efforts of ALL authors in ALL genres. We discuss ways to advance our writing and careers, brainstorm ventures and ideas, get feedback, and find others for mutual promotion. If you seek advice on how to market and promote you're welcome here.

-       Our group rules are simple. Keep it business-only.

-       NO promos, excerpts, contests, newsletters, vote for me, read my blog, tweets, website, friend me, flaming, or jokes.

-       Questions, promo ideas, requests for help/advice/opinions are welcome.

Privacy Policy: We don't share your email with anyone. Period.

In additional efforts and in the spirit of doing what Marketing for Romance Writers does best, we are excited to offer our upcoming

Summer Camp 2012

On July 14th and 15th there will be lots of invaluable information. Pitches, Panels, Workshops and much more.

Here’s a taste of what you will see:

-       Finding Your Audience                                  
-       Niche Marketing
-       Where to Find Readers
-       QR Codes
-       BookWorm Bags - Promos for Conferences
-       Marketing to Specific Genres
-       Blogging 101
-       Preparing for Interviews
-       Helping Your Publisher to Promo Books      
-       Deep POV
-       Triberr

And much more…

So…we hope to see you there and we invite you to sign up and join in the fun.


Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Volunteer at Scottish Highland Games

The 1st Book of the Highland Games Through Time series is out!

My years as a volunteer at the New Hampshire Highland Games, held each fall in Lincoln, NH, has given me plenty of ideas for a book. Hashing out a plot, fleshing out my characters, and delving into many forms of research all came together in MY HONORABLE HIGHLANDER.
Over the last couple of years, I have been doubly blessed. My husband and I—long-time volunteers—were able to meet up with our sons, who gave up their brisk fall weekend to help the thousands of visitors find their way.

You see, we work under the Information Tent handing out programs, helping people find their way, and selling raffle tickets to fund scholarships for those wishing to follow their hearts in becoming proficient in the dance, bagpipes, harps, and more.

Our week starts with a 1400 mile road trip from North Carolina to the White Mountains of New Hampshire. We dump our belongings in our condo then head to the Loon Mountain Ski Area to make sure our tent, tables, and chairs are set up. We post our signs, say hello to people we haven’t seen all year, and welcome our family members.

Last year was a year for the unusual. Hurricane Irene blew through only a few weeks before the games. This meant we had to drive through New York City, as the roads in upstate New York, Vermont and New Hampshire had sustained major damage. Even the bridge at the entrance to Loon Mountain partially collapsed!

The governor installed a Bailey bridge in record time for pedestrian traffic. Vendors and volunteers (us) had to drive over a back road in order to get our supplies to the site. During the busiest part of the busy Saturday morning, thick black smoke from a nearby condo fire caused rescue vehicles to traverse the festivities.
Nancy at the collapsed Loon MTN bridge

I am sure other things occurred, but these stood out. All in all, the weekend was wonderful, our trip home was uneventful, and our hours volunteering means that the 2012 New Hampshire Highland Games will welcome many more visitors eager to relive the lives of their Scottish ancestors.  


More about MY HONORABLE HIGHLANDER
Bumbling present day herbalist, Haven MacKay, gets more than she bargains for when her love spell goes awry, is cast back in time, and meets her true love -- Laird Kirkwall Gunn.

Kirk's plans go slightly off course when he falls in love with a woman wandering through the Scottish Highlands. After all, he has pledged to marry another, from an enemy clan, in order to end a century-old feud.

Title: MY HONORABLE HIGHLANDER
Author: Nancy Lee Badger
Genre: Scottish Time Travel Romance
Length: 92,000 Novel

NOOK
ISBN 9781476417400
For more information at the New Hamshire Highland Games click HERE.
AUTHOR BIO...Nancy Lee Badger
After growing up in Huntington, New York, and raising two handsome sons in New Hampshire, Nancy moved to North Carolina where she writes full-time. Due to a Scottish heritage, she and her family continue to volunteer at the New Hampshire Highland Games each fall. Nancy is a member of RWA, Heart of Carolina Romance Writers, FF&P Romance Writers, and the Celtic Heart Romance Writers. Nancy also writes romantic suspense as Nancy Lennea and is a proud Army Mom.

Website
Blogsite
Twitter  @NLBadger

Friday, May 18, 2012

CELTIC ROSE WRITERS AND FRIENDS


Once again this weekend my blog will be open to Celtic and historical writers, to post promotion or chat in the Comments section of this post.  By all means, introduce yourselves and leave us some blurbs, excerpts and links.  If someone is looking for a read, feel free to browse.   No pressure.  If you want a closer look at a book, just copy and paste the buy link in your browser.  Authors,  show us your stuff!  :)  Readers, feel free to comment and let us know what you're looking for.